


Janey, My Baby, My Girl (My Sister)

by Hippy_ki_yay



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Hand Jobs, Incest, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Smut, Sweet/Hot, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hippy_ki_yay/pseuds/Hippy_ki_yay
Summary: "Jane let her big brother pull her into his arms, their lean limbs wrapping around each other. Trent's hands came to rest on her back, over her shirt, rubbing soothing circles like when she was little and couldn't sleep. Their legs tangled, still shuffling and rubbing together but slower now, to the rhythm of their heart beats. She brought her arms in between them, pressing her cold hands to his t-shirt and hoping that their body heat sandwich could keep her from losing her very important fingertips."
Relationships: Jane Lane/Trent Lane
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Janey, My Baby, My Girl (My Sister)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Wrote the whole first draft of this on the notes app of a Kindle like a fucking HEATHEN cause I'm horny on this futon tonight. Canon compliance for characters is up to debate. Jane is 16, Trent is 20. Enjoy if you are inclined to enjoy this sorta shit, and if not GTFO. Feedback from those who aren't nasty is appreciated.

It was cold, but Trent was there.

\---

Some fucking asshat had gotten in a drunken wreck outside of their house while they were out, gravel and random pieces of metal and a shoe (?!) flying out from the incident and straight into her window. Then some punk ass kids had thrown rocks and trash and more car junk inside the gaping hole of shattering glass; at least, that's what the helpful old lady next door had told her she had observed (doing nothing to stop it, of course).

Cause those were the kind of neighbors they had. What was common courtesy again?

So, Jane had gotten home from school (Daria had a migraine and just wanted to go sleep) and Trent had gotten back from wherever the hell he had been, probably getting high at a friend's house, and... Well, they found that. The front yard a mess, debris strewn all across the street, a few snickering kids and curious neighbors slinking around. The inside of Jane's room when she opened the door was not the pleasant rehab it usually was.

Her rather disgruntled exclamation made sure that Trent was behind her within seconds. They surveyed the broken glass and trash littering her bed and most of the floor, and the paint palette that fucking shoe had displaced. Jane grunted again, even more frustrated, and felt her brother lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"No sweat, Janey. We'll clean you up."

The words were spoken in his usual low but soft timbre, care seeping through every syllable. His hip pressed against her back for a brief second before he was moving past her, into her bedroom like it was his own, immediately putting on "Dirt" by Alice in Chains (their unofficial cleaning soundtrack).

Why she noticed that touch, almost leaned into it... Well, Jane didn't really know. It wasn’t usual, but it wasn't unusual either.

Whatever. They had shit to do, and Trent easily offering help would make the work of righting of her sacred space a lot more tolerable.

\---

Three trash bags later-cause they'd kind of gotten on a roll and cleared out some pizza boxes and soda cans too-and the room was clear of glass and debris, if still sporting a broken window that let in surprisingly chill evening air. It was going to be a cold, maybe even rainy night, that was apparent.

"Huh, want me to tape something over that?"

Jane considered the window. It was almost beautiful, from this angle. The glass was broken in such a way that it had created large triangular exaggerations around the opening: like teeth. This roaring mouth framed the sky beyond, the lady of the sun fading away and leaving a purple and gray, pulsing throat in its wake. A storm was definitely on the horizon.

"Sure," she answered after a minute. What else was going to at least keep some water out? "Are there any trash bags left?"

"Got you, babe," Trent replied easily, almost second hand, as he slipped out the door and his footsteps noticeably faded towards the kitchen.

Jane scoffed and rolled her eyes at his words. Typical Trent, always with some sort of line. It didn't actually bother her-she could anticipate his little quips and jokes after so long-but the fact that it didn't... Well, when was the last time she's actually thought about that? Like, maybe never? Never, yeah. They had their own thing going, Trent was in his own racing lane (if the one that was right next to hers, and keeping pace...) and it would just be weird to have him not like that. To not call her babe, Janey, his girl, sometimes, even…

Fuck, where was this train of thought even going? Like, overanalyzing much?! There wasn't anything to it. Trent was Trent, Jane was Jane, they were the bizarre but totally kick ass Lane siblings (the only cool people in their family, and the only ones that actually mattered to each other). It didn't bother her, and it wasn't really something that needed to be thought through, clearly, since she'd already gone years being used to it. He likes to call her nicknames, and she had no problem with it (so what was that weird buzzing in her stomach?).

The album had stopped. Maybe that was why her brain was thinking (and fuck could she hear Daria's voice say that word) too much. She got up to flip over to side two, just as her brother re-entered the room.

"We are, apparently, out of large trash bags, so kudos on guessing that you psychic bitch," he announced with a wink, smirking lazily at her amused smile. "But I pulled the tarp off dad’s old car since it's inside the garage anyways. That should hold up better than just a trash bag and tape..."

Both Lane siblings set to work rigging up Jane's temporary window covering, securing the tarp over the window's entire frame with some thumb tacks. They threw a sheet over it next, in a sort of black out curtain attempt so that she wouldn't have to stare at an oil strained tarp until they could scrounge up the money to get it fixed.

Finally, Trent tugged a shelf in front of the window with ease, setting a box full of clothes (for Goodwill) on top to keep everything secured. Jane resolutely did not pay too much attention to his casual strength, just noted it duly because he was rather thin and it was a little surprising and that was ALL.

"Well, don't go yanking on it and nothing should explode."

"Duh, it's not a dick, you dick."

Jane almost thought, for just a second, that Trent wasn't going to respond to that in any positive way-but then he laughed, and warmth filled her belly. Of course. She'd gotten her rather dirty humor from him and his friends, after all (once he'd stopped freaking out about her being too young, anyways).

"True, true," he conceded, wiping fake years from his eyes. "Ya don't wanna do that in front of the window, anyways, less you want Elma next door to tell the whole neighborhood about it."

"I've heard of old ladies who like to gossip, but she just takes it to a whole damn new level," Jane offered, snickering. The things she had heard from that woman…

"Oh god, the neighbor's cat is sick! Oh god, I saw the mail lady sucking dick! We're living in a world of lies, and they're only beholden to my eyes~" Trent sang his new hit, dancing around and playing air guitar.

Jane laughed loudly, watching his hips thrust and eyes scrunch shut. "Stop that! It's so horrible, no one wants to hear or see that!"

"No one, huh? I think the ladies would disagree! And you're the only one here, Janey, so you either wanna see it or you don't," her brother informed her with a wink.

Ignoring the slight squirm in her stomach that indicated 'no, I actually don't mind seeing that' she punched him in the arm. "Oh, shut up. If I'm the only one in here then what does that make you, huh? A ghost?"

"A ghost?," he gasped, acting scared. " O.M.G., a ghost?! Help, Janey, we're being haunted!"

Trent clutched his heart dramatically and flopped back on her bed making it bounce with his weight. He moaned weird, spectral noises like a stereotypical ghost would, wiggling his fingers (and toes) in the air as if to mime little spirits flitting about.

Jane snorted (more like giggled) through her teeth, trying to appear unamused and failing most spectacularly. There was just something about her big brother and his silly ways, always trying to cheer her up like when she was a small child, that broke past any stoicness she tried to put on.

She sat down besides him, waving her fingers in the air and laughing harder as he waved his back, their little ghostly puppets getting into a fight to the death above their faces.

\---

Hours. Hours and hours had flown by as they stayed in Jane's room, laughing and listening to music, eating leftover noodles, fighting and joking and just enjoying each other's company as the wind howled outside and the night grew darker.

It was almost surprising that Trent had managed to stay awake until-she checked her alarm clock-10pm, considering they'd both arrived home in the early afternoon. But nice, so very nice to spend time with her big brother.

Jane watched him snore now, face down into one of her pillows like he always slept, soft rumbles and snorts occasionally passing his hidden lips. Unlike the snoring of Jessie, her dad, the girls she and Daria had been forced to bunk with on school trips, and anyone else she had heard... She didn't mind Trent's. Maybe it was just the familiarity, since he was asleep so often.

Should she let him stay here? It wasn't exactly like he was in desperate need of rest, but, then again, he wasn't really bothering her and he was, miraculously, contained to one side of the bed. Not a splayed limb in her way to lie down and get some sleep too.

So she'd let him stay then, nothing weird. 

Why was her brain chewing everything, every little interaction and decision, up today? Completely normal things, things that happened everyday and never bothered her... Suddenly, everything was up for interpretation. She was second guessing his actions, her responses, the meaning of it all. As if it had some fucking meaning. They were just family, hanging out and bantering like always.

Right?

So why was her stomach so often quakey when he smiled at her, called her babe or Janey; why did she feel herself blush when his arm laid next to hers as they compared Eddie Vedder's old work to his newer productions?! Jane Lane never blushed.

Whatever. And she meant that with the full sigh it came with. WhatEVER. Jane was going to get some sleep, right here in her cozy bed next to her normal big brother, and hopefully forget all about the bug in her body by the morning. At least it was a Friday.

\---

It was cold, but Trent was there.

Something had woken Jane up: an extremely loud gust of winding smacking tree branches into the roof, to be exact. Outside of their little house, rain came thundering down and wind screamed as it raced past the patched up window. Cold air leaked from it, the water stopped from entering inside but the wind, not so much.

The room, her bedroom, was at a temperature that would have delighted Daria but was not nearly as pleasant for her, especially not in the middle of the night.

On the bed beside her, still on his stomach, Trent huffed and wiggled his body like a worm, the usual t-shirt and jeans he wore obviously not doing much to keep him warm without blankets.

Should she wake him up? Jane's sleepy brain decided that it was perfectly reasonable for him to stay, if only he took off his muddy boots and jeans. Cause those couldn't stay in the bed. But Trent and his body heat could.

"Hey, hey, get up."

Jane got a groan for her troubles and another wormy butt wiggle, but no real answer. She tried again, this time with the addition of a small hand patting her brother on the shoulder blade.

"Trent! Dude, wake up, it's so fucking cold."

"Mmph, Jane? What? Shit, it's freezing in here," he mumbled, raising his head and then wriggling around until he was facing her and half upright.

She crawled forward over the rumpled blankets, motioning for his boots. Somehow, their tired brains still managed to communicate without words and they worked together to get Trent's old shoes off of his feet. Once exposed to the air, his toes curled in their dingy socks.

"Jeans, too. Gotta get under these blankets," Jane whispered, almost inaudible. She hoped that he wouldn't think too much of it; luckily, Trent was absolutely cool with lazing around in boxers and a t- shirt or even baring it all to the world (her and their picture frames) when he was a bit high.

The tall, dark silhouette of a sleep rumpled Lane stood at the side of the bed, fumbling with its jeans and faintly outlined by the streetlamp glow struggling its way through the tarp, sheet, and shelf.

Once he'd gotten the denim (and socks, he hates sleeping with socks) off, Trent immediately got back in bed, skinny legs tucking up tightly as he peered at her through soft, bleary eyes.

"You too," he whispered, just as quiet as she had been. "Don't wanna get your jacket all rumpled."

Right. Jane removed her signature red jacket and her own boots; after a few seconds of hesitation, she pulled off her denim shorts and slipped her bra out from under her shirt (if he got to get comfy, then she did too, right? This was her bed after all). It left her in just semi-sheer legging and a long sleeve, but her brother didn't seem to notice as he grabbed the heavy comforter she slept with in the colder months and pulled it up over their shoulders.

Immediately, the pressure of the blanket laying over top of them added a measure of comfort and safety, if no real warmth yet. She buried her cold nose into the pillow-just a few inches from Trent-and rubbed her stockinged legs together, hoping against hope that she would magically be able to warm up in seconds. Like that had ever happened before.

Her brother was doing the same if his quickly shuffling legs were anything to go by. He huffed and shifted a bit, rolling onto his side and hunching in on himself like turning his back to the window could ward off all of the cold.

After another minute of squirming and rubbing and chattering teeth, it wasn't much warmer. Not at all, in fact. The weather had seriously taken a dive that night and the air in the room seemed to be determined to stick it's icy fingers into every little crack in their blanket shield.

"Jane, hey, Janey. Wanna cuddle?" Trent whispered, sounding hesitant and desperate at the same time.

Fuck, did she ever. That little overanalyzing, gooey-warm worry bug that had been inside of her earlier wasn't here now, and she was too cold to care anyways. What did it all matter? There was nothing wrong with what was going on, with how they interacted. She wasn't even sure what her subconscious had been having trouble with in the first place, just that whenever Trent... Was Trent, around her, it flared up.

But, again, whatever. Didn't matter. Too cold.

Jane let her big brother pull her into his arms, their lean limbs wrapping around each other. Trent's hands came to rest on her back, over her shirt, rubbing soothing circles like when she was little and couldn't sleep. Their legs tangled, still shuffling and rubbing together but slower now, to the rhythm of their heart beats. She brought her arms in between them, pressing her cold hands to his t-shirt and hoping that their body heat sandwich could keep her from losing her very important fingertips.

Trent sighed into her hair, face resting right above her head. His motions stayed steady-hands circling, feet skating up and down her calves-and it seemed like it was working. Her body was feeling a little warmer, frozen muscles loosening a bit, and breathing didn't feel like it was going to kill her anymore.

"Hey, baby, you alright?" Her brother breathed, pulling her a little closer.

Jane nodded against him, shamelessly letting herself snuggle. It was incredibly nice, being pressed against each other, breathing the same (chilly) air, working together to warm up. It felt safe, comforting, a replay of a familiar memory shot long ago. How long had it been since they'd cuddled? Years, probably not since she'd been 10 or so. But before that, it had been a fairly common occurrence for little Janey to climb into her brother’s bed or pounce on his belly to demand a hug. She could admit that she almost missed it.

Her breath hitched as a strong bout of wind blew by, seeping past the window and caressing her exposed face. Jane shivered, clutching her brother's shirt in her hands and turning her face into his neck. She felt him reciprocate the tighter embrace; the hands that had been resting on her shoulder blades wrapped tighter around her torso, grabbing her waist.

They were completely flush together, the air between them feeling almost steamy with their condensed and huddled body heat. Trent's head lowered, his nose nudging into her hairline and lips brushing her forehead. His beard scruff tickled her eyebrows.

A kiss? Almost. Like the cuddling, it had been a long time since her brother had been able to give her a kiss on the forehead or cheek. She always pushed him away. But why, why did she? There was nothing wrong with it, he wasn't doing it to mess with her or play a trick: it was just a gesture of love and comfort. And it was so very comforting.

As another shiver wracked her body, Jane threw her calf over Trent's, hoping that moving her legs, which had been slowly losing the heat they'd put into them, would help. He got the message and started moving his again, up and down like he was riding a bicycle.

Jane gasped softly when one of his thighs worked its way in between hers. But God was it warm. She pulled him in even closer, though it felt impossible, tightening her thighs around his and hooking her upper calf around the back of his leg. He sighed, murmuring something incoherent (maybe not even real words, just an expression of contentment). Jane felt one of Trent's arms leave her. 

But then it came back, grabbing at the leg that was thrown on top of him and hitching it higher so that her knee was at his hip. Caging him caging her in; a cuddly pretzel. The other hand was still around her, his whole arm wrapped tightly around her waist and hand pressing against the taut pull of her belly under her shirt. 

Their position meant that her bottom thigh was also between  _ his  _ legs, pressing up into his warm undercarriage. Jane stifled a laugh at the squishiness of it: that was normal, but still… funny. A bit odd. But not uncomfortable, surprisingly. And she was sure that, if she wasn't wearing leggings (or underwear), Trent would have been able to feel pubes, lips, and wetness as well, they were tucked in that close. 

The warmth seemed to permeate all the way through her now, heating up her bones and blood vessels with a sort of nostalgic toastiness that was striking in its rarity. Once again, Jane’s mind supplied that it had simply been too long since she’d had this sort of physical connection with her brother (or anyone, for that matter). Intimacy had been a category in her life that had been lacking, and now that she was having a taste of it, well… Jane could understand why Trent kept Monique around despite their numerous fights. If they got to cuddle every night, even after all that? Worth it. Totally worth it. 

“Janey?”

She hummed to show she was listening, flexing her toes against the back of his thigh; it caused a small tremor to wrack his body, the hand on her leg skating up to grab onto her hip. 

“You comfy?” He asked, voice barely a whisper and quavering like it was being blown away in the wind.

There was something more to his tone. Trent never, ever sounded hesitant, even when he didn’t know something: he simply admitted it with a casual ease Jane secretly envied. When he was scared he pretended he wasn’t (for her, she knew), when he was mad only the slightest inflection, but no tremor, crept in. So, what was this shaky, unsure question? 

She was pretty sure she knew. 

In a leap of hope that she could later blame on her half-asleep state if needed, Jane kissed his neck as an answer. She anticipated his startled gasp, but was relieved at the feel of his arms clutching her closer. 

Jane planted another kiss onto Trent’s throat, this time on his Adam's apple. It bobbed and he rumbled in his throat; a moan that never reached the air. Trent’s hand on her hip smoothed back down her thigh again. He drew dizzying patterns with his calloused fingertips, a sensation almost distracting enough for her to pause the kisses, but she didn’t dare. 

It almost felt as if, if she stopped, Jane wouldn’t ever be able to start again. This was already so unsteady, so new (so wrong) in so many ways, and she was sure that either her or Trent would come up to the light if they opened their eyes to this. So her eyes stayed shut, and her lips traced over the tendons in her big brother’s neck, over his throat, just barely tasting sweet skin and smelling his cologne. 

Trent kissed her forehead this time-a proper, actual kiss, instead of a brush of lips-and then moved on to the temple. He worked his way down from the top of her head, taking a minute to nuzzle into the hair above her ear, and then craned his neck to get at her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. 

Jane was forced to stop her ministrations on his neck, but she couldn’t bring herself to care too much. Trent’s soul patch was surprisingly soft brushing against the delicate skin of her face, and his lips felt like heaven. Each kiss was tender and delicate, like he was afraid if he pressed too hard he would break her; she felt more cherished and loved in that moment than she had in her entire life. It made sense, when she thought about it. Trent was the only person who had loved and cherished her since the day she was born, and he would never stop. 

The meeting of their lips locked whatever misgivings either of them would have had about this out of the room. 

She sighed into his mouth, one hand coming up to clutch at the back of his head. Trent’s thick tufts of hair were perfect for her to grab onto (they both had thick, dark hair, from their grandmother). He replied back to her with his own quiet noise on content and squeezed her knee. 

His hand was moving up her leg yet again, but now on the inside. His fingers were a steady, confident pressure rubbing at her sensitive inner thighs while her breath caught in her lungs. Jane wasn’t sure whether to focus on his lips or his exploring hand, but Trent wasn’t giving her an option. He was everywhere, in all of her senses, kissing and caressing and surrounding her in an embrace of forbidden, delicious love. Jane had never felt so warm. 

Jane licked at his lips, immediately being granted access with a garbled moan on “Janey.” It made her whole body flair with heat, each of the points of contact between their bodies (which was everywhere) feeling aflame. 

She kissed him back desperately, tilting her head for a better angle as she licked into every corner of his mouth that she could find. He responded in kind, rubbing not only their lips but the entirety of their faces together in one giant, affectionate connection of a kiss. 

Trent grabbed at the hem of her shirt, both of his hands sneaking underneath it to touch the quivering skin of her stomach. He separated their upper bodies slightly so that he could get access-which she granted him almost desperately-and swept his hands up and up and up. And up. 

Jane pulled in a sharp breath as her brother’s large hands cupped her breasts, squeezing gently as he hummed. 

“Trent…”

“Damn, baby.” 

It made her feel wild, and powerful. His love, his touches, the hot desire that she could feel against her leg and still lingering on her lips… it was addictive. She was wanted more, even more, suddenly, this desire tearing through her with another wave of warmth. Of course it was Trent! He was her everything, and she was his. This felt so good and right that Jane didn’t think anything could ever compare. Yeah, it was unconventional (far beyond it, in fact), but weren’t they as well? When was the last time she’d seen her parents? 

Fuck, she didn’t want to think about her parents-or anyone else-right now. Just Trent. 

“More, please,” she sighed. A command she knew he would follow readily, like he did of anything she told him to. 

“Anything,” he answered back, the front of her shirt tenting as he fondled her breasts. 

His head came down to suck at her neck, following a similar trail with his lips like the one she had brushed against him. His mouth suctioned a hickey at the base of her throat, fingers swirling around her nipples until they were taught and a cry caught in her throat. 

Jane tightened her legs in their sensual tangle under the covers, rubbing at the apparent erection in his boxers at the same time as she brought herself down onto his thigh with a rock of her hips. 

Trent huffed into the underside of her jaw, joining her rhythm to rub at both of their genitals through the societal-mandated cloth they wore. He left one hand on her breast as the other trailed down the back of her shirt to her butt, giving it a squeeze. 

She reciprocated, making them both chuckle at the handful of bony booty she snagged for herself. 

“I’ve heard that a girl likes a nice butt more than guys actually do,” Trent whispered, voice warm like honey and quite amused. 

“Mmm, yeah. Off,” she agreed, plucking at his tee shirt. Green, though she couldn’t see it in the darkness. 

He complied, removing his hands from her to half sit up and pull it off. Once it had been flung over his head and into the abyss of her newly cleaned room, they paused. 

Trent was silhouetted by the minuscules of light that crept around the tarp. It made the ends of his mussed hair glow and his olive skin shine a dull cream. The tattoo around his bicep stood in stark contrast; her trembling fingers reached out to wrap around his arm over it, like a cuff. 

He was absolutely beautiful like this, she thought. The look and smell of arousal on him was amazing: how had she never noticed before? How had she never seen how gorgeous and wonderful her big brother was? 

“Janey…” he sighed, looking up to meet her eyes. 

It was dark in the room, incredibly dark, and yet she could see the blue of his irises perfectly. A shade to exactly match her own, down to the dilated black openings crowding out the blue. 

His gaze was full of love, want, and happiness. Jane realized that she had rarely seen her brother like this. Entirely open, eager for what he wants, paying close attention… to her. Happy, because of her. Hard, because of her. 

“C’mere?” she asked-not commanded-this time. 

Trent did so, kissing her with a sweet ferocity that made her head spin as he shoved the waistband of her tights down a few inches. She panted excitedly, wiggling against the search of his fingers as the crease of her hip and thigh was explored. 

The only reason she didn’t scream when his rough fingertips slid over her labia majora was because she had a mouthful of his skin. Her lips frantically slid across his chest, licking over his clavicle then down to a small, pebbled nipple. When he pushed a finger past her lips to gently nudge her clip, the shock made her bite down into his pectoral (and she didn’t even feel bad). 

Jane moaned and he hissed. The warm chest against her face twitched and shifted, his arm twisting at a different angle to rub her better. It was unbelievable how much more amazing it felt for someone else to touch her, never alone Trent. It was as if his fingertips were live wires, delivering little shocks to her system with every rhythmic swipe of his index finger’s tip. 

Jane gripped Trent’s sharp hips, prodding him to change his angle slightly so that she could access him as well. His happy trail was course and tantalizing as her fingernails scratched against it, every slow millimeter she moved downwards making his belly cave even more. He was holding his breath, waiting for her to do it; the thought made her giddy. 

She decided to have mercy, lest he passed out from lack of oxygen (and inadvertently put a stop to this). Her hand sought the tip of that burning hot erection that had been squeezed between them for the past however long: time seemed irrelevant and mysterious. It was wet and sticky, extremely soft to the tough, and made Trent whine high in his throat when she prodded at the slit with her thumb. 

“Fuck, baby. I love you,” he gasped, rubbing harder at her clit. 

“I-ieehhhh!” Was all she could say in response. What Jane had wanted to reply, “I think I love you, too, fuck,” was pushed out of her mouth in a strangled scream as the tip of his finger caught just the right angle on her clitoris. 

He caught on-because of the noise-and continued what he’d been doing, moving in a tickling motion that made her knees quake. She was going to cum very soon, which she told him. It was all Jane could do to grip his cock tightly (his turn would come after) and bury her face in his neck. 

“Come on, Janey, come on. Look so hot like this, my girl,” Trent mumbled into her hair, encouraging her. 

Jane reached the cliff with a gasping moan, clutching at him (his dick) and pumping her hips mindlessly. Her legs quaked as they clung to him, her toes curling against the back of his thigh and her knee probably squishing his balls to an uncomfortable level. 

He made soft noises through all of it, hand moving in her tights until she had to wiggle away and give a disbelieving chuckle. 

“I’m done, I’m done. Oh my god.”

“Agreed,” Trent grinned. He kissed her temple and withdrew his hand from her pants, wrapping his arms around her waist again. 

“Your turn now,” she spoke into his throat, sucking a large hickey that would definitely be visible (suck it, Monique!) as she started stroking him. 

It had been awhile since she’d ‘handled’ a guy, but she did her best and it certainly seemed like her brother was enjoying it. He huffed and moaned, lips brushing over her forehead and arms squeezing her tight. 

She sped up when his hips started sporadically twitching against her, indicating the nearness of his orgasm. It came on almost suddenly, Trent being surprisingly quiet when he came as compared to all the noises he had made during the whole ordeal. All that was heard was a barely audible “Jane!”

His semen ended up smeared all down her forearm from her wrist, some of it catching on his belly as she brought her hand away. Trent chuckled breathlessly, searching for her lips to kiss her. She kissed back happily, rubbing cum all over his chest just to make him gasp and laugh again. 

“Hey! I don’t wanna sleep with that on me, it’s gonna get all funky.”

“What, like dry? Could rip it off in the morning and get rid of your two whole chest hairs.”

“Yeah, dry and flaky. Itchy. It’ll be on you, too, we should clean up.”

Despite saying it, neither of them made any move to separate or get up for a rag. Their afterglow bliss had made a pleasant cocoon of warmth in the air around them, and Jane wanted to savour the moment for as long as she could. Would this happen again? She wasn’t sure, but she sure as hell wanted it to be a reality for as long as possible. 

After a minute, Trent sighed and patted her hips. “Alright, fuck, at least let me get my shirt to wipe this off. We can take a shower tomorrow morning?” 

“Really?” Jane breathed, looking up at him. 

Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised, he had told her that he loved her. 

“Yeah, unless you’d rather do it now? Trust me, we’re gonna wake up and reek like piggies.” 

“Mmm, no. T’morrow,” she told him, snuggling back into his neck now that she was secure in the knowledge that neither of them was going to shy away from this. 

“Tomorrow,” Trent agreed. 

He not so subtly used her tee shirt to wipe the cum off his chest, which she smacked him in the arm before. But it was alright, because they could just be naked now anyways (and shower in the morning! She was looking forward to that immensely somewhere in her sleepy brain). Their nude bodies curled back together once their clothing was shed, arms winding around rib cages and faces smooshed together. 

“Thanks for fixing my window.”

“Anything for my girl. Love you, baby. My Janey.”

She would never feel cold again. Trent was there. 


End file.
